The Epsilon Empire: Book One: The Fall of the UNSC
by Author Fenrir
Summary: The Epsilon Empire is set in an alternate universe where The Prophet of Regret arrived at earth with the full invasion fleet, instead of with a minor recon fleet. This led to not finding halo, nor the flood escape from Delta Halo, nor the human victory. The humans also had a final planet, hidden from the public, known as Epsilon. This book focuses on the final hours of the UNSC.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

((Note: This is my first story on fanfiction, I am entirely open to any and all criticism, good, bad, funny, and even outright insulting. My entire purpose is to improve my writing. I am well aware this writing is not top tier in any way, but I hope it improves over time through feedback. Thank you.))

Chapter 1:

The Beginning of the end.

 **December 9th 2552 1000 Hours**

Lord Hood looked out from Cairo Station at the massive fleet before him, almost twice the size of the fleet that destroyed reach. The massive fleet had arrived on October 9th, and humanity was cracking under the onslaught. Hood watched as Mac rounds and plasma bursts passed each other, tearing into metal and dissipating shields. He heard screams over the communications as fires consumed the crew of once mighty warships. Hood heard the sighs of his staff as fingers typed away, reporting yet more losses. Was that all their lives would be remembered as? Numbers on digital displays?

Hood returned his mind to the tactical situation. Many ships and Orbital defense platforms had already fallen to the covenant onslaught. He had sent a detachment of three SPARTAN II, including the master chief along with two full platoons of ODSTs to attempt to assassinate truth. Only covenant propaganda showed the result. ODST and SPARTAN bodies erected on spikes, Truth now used the chief's bloodied body in his messages to demoralize earth. With their legend dead, the human forces were losing morale, ground forces were slowly being overrun, and naval forces were being decimated. Something odd was happening though, there were rumblings of in-fighting within the covenant, but whatever advantage that could give, it was too late to have an effect.

 **December 9th 2552 1100 Hours**

ODST Connor Tyr had always found it enjoyable to fight against the odds, but this was simply ridiculous. His platoon was outnumbered ten to one against a technologically superior force, and as another soldier went down, his helmet and face melted away from plasma fire, Connor realized this wasn't ideal. They had been pinned in the city center, in a damaged police station, the previous residents of which were still laying in pieces on the ground when they came across it. They had been investigating a distress call, when they were ambushed by a covenant battalion. They had already been in this prolonged firefight for over an hour. They had inflicted numerous casualties to the covenant forces, but the hostiles showed no sign of falling back. Glass shattered near him as a plasma grenade found its home right next to Connor. He tried to dive to cover, but was caught in the blast and thrown against a nearby wall. He faded in and out of consciousness, he felt himself being dragged and saw members of his platoon firing as they fell back. When he finally gained full consciousness, he saw he was in a room with all its doors and windows barred shut. His 2ic in command rushed over to him.

"Sir, are you ok? You took a really bad hit." Connor shook his head and nodded.

"Yeah Jones, I'm good. Give me a strep."

"We were forced to fall back, after you went down, the covenant started advancing on our position. We've lost about half our combat strength, 5 KIA, 10 wounded. We need to radio for backup, or this station will be our tomb."

"Right, get me a radio Jones, ugh, and a fucking aspirin."

 **December 9th 2552 1200 Hours**

"Utter madness." This is what Captain Zheng Yamamoto thought as he peered out the observation window of his bridge. "The UNSC wants us to hold out against these odds? The chief is dead, over half our fleet has been obliterated, and the orbital defense platforms are falling left and right. Yet they want us to keep fighting?" Of course Zheng would never fully voice his concerns, he knew it would ruin the morale of his men, so he kept his mouth shut, and continued on this suicide mission.

"Sir, the UNSC "Red October" and "Heavy Hitter" are both reporting extensive damage! They're breaking apart!" Zheng's eyes shot to life.

"Bring us about, send us right into that cruiser, main cannon, begin charge up sequence, archer pods stand by. Communications, contact the 'Yorktown V2' and the 'Midway' tell them we request assistance to bring down this cruiser. MOVE PEOPLE!"

"Sir, the Midway and Yorktown have replied, they are moving to reinforce us."

"Good, helm, send us straight down into a dive, communications, have the Midway and Yorktown fire their Mac rounds at that ugly monstrosity. Helm, once their shields are down, bring us right under that beast, main cannon and archers, prepare to fire." The engines of the three ships roared to life. The covenant cruiser fired heavy plasma cannon rounds as Zheng's frigate the "Empress" dived, avoiding one of the rounds. The midway and Yorktown took the hits directly to their hulls, causing massive explosions as chunks of metal were torn apart.

The Yorktown and midway's main cannons opened up with a massive flash, as their rounds smashed against the covenant carrier, dissipating its shields.

"Helm, raise us up, send us right underneath those sons of bitches, main cannon, archers, on my mark, open fire!" The frigate flew upward like a sea monster rising from the deep. "All forward batteries, FIRE! Main cannon, let 'em have it!" The weapons roared to life, the archers blew apart the first layers of armor as they made first contact only seconds before the MAC round tore through the center of the covenant cruiser, tearing it apart as it listed and turned into drifting debris. Zheng sat down in his chair, exhausted. "Helm, return us to formation, communications, send our gratitude to the 'Midway' and 'Yorktown'."

 **December 9th 2552 1200 Hours**

"I always loved rough flying, but this is one for the books Mike." Stated Longsword pilot Otto 'Baron' Falke.

"Yeah, you're the one who volunteered us you maniac!" The co-pilot Michael 'Wing' Roark shouted, visibly shaking.

"Off all the pilots, I get stuck with the nut job 'Baron'."

"Stop complaining Michael, we're doing well." Otto looked outside as he saw two more longswords on his right wing fall behind his fighter in balls of fire.

"Or maybe not SO well."

Their mission had been simple, or as simple as these times called for. Their fighter wing was to escort Otto's fighter toward a covenant carrier's hangar bay, lower the hangar shields, and allow Otto to detach his nuclear payload into the carrier, and send them on their "Great Journey". As it stood, the mission was not going well, they'd lost over half their wing to covenant flak or hostile fighters, and they were barely half way to the carrier.

"Activate Naomi, Michael." "

"What? Otto, you know we're not supposed to activate her under normal circumstances."

"You call THIS normal Michael? I'm all for tough missions, but our wing is being torn apart! Now activate her so she can help get our asses out of the fire!"

Michael starred at Otto for a moment, before hitting a button, and a dark red hologram appeared. The hologram was the depiction of a woman, short, slender, and with short hair. Her clothing was a tank top with camo pants and combat boots, as well as dog tags hanging from her neck.

"What did you two IDIOTs do while I was away? Piss in a prophet's coffee?"

"Blame command, Naomi, we need your help."

"I already figured that out Otto, you know I'm not supposed to be out."

"We can put you back in your box if you'd prefer."

"Now let's not be hasty Otto, what do you need help with?"

"We need you to arm the nuke we're carrying while Michael and I help the wing out."

"Got it, arming, and get to work, I'd rather not blow up while I'm working." Naomi's depiction shifted to a burning red orb as Otto turned his attention to the growing number of Seraph fighters tailing the formation of longswords.

"Michael, you take the ventral 120s, I'll take the 110 rotaries."

"Got it Otto, we going into a spin?"

"Yep, brace!" The power to the engines was cut and the forward thrusters kicked in, causing the longsword to fall behind the advancing fighters. As the seraphs turned about to attack Otto's longsword, the longsword's cannons roared to life as they went into a 360 spin. The bullets flew in all directions, sparks shot from the Seraph armor as they were torn apart by cannon fire.

"We took the majority of them out, fire missiles and punch it." Missile pods opened and fiery tubes shot forth, finding their destination in hostile hulls, blowing the ships, and their occupants, to pieces. As the missiles made contact, the longsword shot forward, regrouping with its formation.

"Contact the formation, we're coming up on that hangar bay, we just saved their asses, I want a clean opening."

"Literally half the formation told you to fuck off, but they're moving to take down the shields."

"Ungrateful jackasses. Naomi, how's that nuke coming?"

"Cooked and ready to be served."

"Good, on my mark, detach it and start the countdown." Their fellow longswords flew ahead, firing their cannons and missiles, causing the shield to fade away. Otto's longsword cruised in and stopped in the hangar. "Welcome party is here, numerous hostiles with explosive ordinance aimed right for us. "Take the rotaries, clear out the hostile fighters so we don't have to dogfight in here, I'll take care of our hosts on the ground." The cannons thundered to life, blowing covenant forces to pieces, or turning fighters into scrap metal. "Naomi, detach! Michael, back us out, I'll cover us." The longsword slowly departed the hangar and launched back toward the UNSC naval line. The timer on the nuke ticked down to 0, as the carrier was ripped apart from the inside, vaporizing all aboard, and breaking the ship into pieces. "I'd say that was a success, you two can thank me now." "Shut up Otto!" Both Michael and Naomi shouted in unison. "Naomi, back in your box, maybe command won't notice we used you." "Yeah, good luck with that one Otto, see you losers later." Naomi disappeared as the longsword cruised forward.

 **December 9th 2552 1300 Hours**

Spartan 099 'Bonnie'

Planet of birth: Harvest

Hair color: Red

Eye color: Green

Age: 46

Role: CQC expert.

Current mission: Save injured ODSTs from police department building.

Bonnie peaked out of the ruined car she was using as cover, searching the area for activity. Her entrance was clear, the Police department HQ across the street. She saw around eight covenant soldiers guarding it. Two elites, two brutes, two grunts, two jackals. Four of kind, now she just had to see if her hand was larger. She started to move out of cover when she saw something curious. The two brutes checked their radios, and then looked nervously at the elites. Bonnie had a feeling this was worth recording, so she turned on her helmets camera. The two brutes slowly walked up to the elites, the first brute put a spike directly through the elite's skull, the second elite drew its energy sword, impaling the first brute. The second brute then grabbed the living elite, snapping its spine over its knee, before throwing the groaning body onto the ground. The brute then took his spiker, and put three spikes into the elite's body, allowing the elite to bleed out. The grunts, panicked at this display, moved to kill the living brute, before being shot and killed by the jackals, and then being hauled off, presumably to be eaten. Bonnie ceased recording, amazed by the display she just witnessed. She had seen covenant fight before, but never straight up murder one another, and never a brute murdering an elite.

Bonnie was simply happy her path had been cleared by this lucky twist of fate. The remaining brute was quickly taken care of with her combat knife, she then proceeded inside, passing over the bodies of several ODST on her way. She collected the fallen's tags as she moved through the narrow corridor. She nervously checked every room for contact, surprisingly finding nothing. As she moved to the second level, she discovered why it was so quiet. Bodies. Mounds upon mounds, of bodies, all belonging to covenant. Elite and brute corpses lay in combat positions, impaled against walls, or simply crushed by a larger creature's heel. She stepped over the bodies, looking for any survivors or the victors. She found only a few grunts hiding in a storage closet. They were huddled and shaking, so she decided to put them out of their misery. She moved to the third level, where the distress call was coming from. Three bloodied elites and a heavily wounded brute beneath them blocked her path. She turned on her automatic translator, attempting to obtain any information from their conversation.

"You Sangheili, the prophets have favored us! They will burn you and your race to ash, and raise ours to GOD HOOD!" The wounded brute growled at the elites through a bloody mouth.

"The prophet's words are lies and tricks, you will be slaves. We are freeing you from a worse fate." The lead elite then drove his energy sword through the brute's skull, before limping back down the hall.

Bonnie ducked out of sight, before throwing a grenade down the hall way. She heard a few panicked words before the explosion rocked the floor. She peeked out again, the walls were painted blue, and parts of elites were strewn all over the floor. She moved toward the door, to the room the distress call was coming from. Bonnie opened the door to find over half a platoon of ODSTs pointing weapons at her.

"Relax boys, I'm here to help." Bonnie made sure to sound as reassuring as possible.

A wounded commander limped forward. "Names Connor, Connor Tyr, thanks for the assist, I didn't expect them to send a SPARTAN. Is the building clear?"

"Of course commander, I've radioed for a Pelican extraction, get your men ready to move."

"Understood. ODSTs, we are leaving the building, and we are not getting our deposit back."

The ODSTs limped out and entered the Pelican with the SPARTAN, taking off to fight another day.


	2. Chapter 2: Loss and Preparation

Chapter 2: Loss and Preparation

 **December 19** **th** **2552: 0900 Hours**

Lord Hood looked at the displays before him.

The 212nd, 501st, and 327th marine divisions, tasked with holding the east coast of North America, had been utterly decimated, over 60k lives lost in total, despite reinforcements from the 23rd tank battalion and 53rd air wing, the defense had been destroyed by an overwhelming number of landing craft and covenant banshees.

The 5th fleet in space had been decimated, over 80% of total ships lost. They were able to inflict heavy casualties before they were forced to regroup with the 6th fleet. Orbital MAC groups 5-7 had been utterly wiped out, allowing a gap in defense, which the covenant were now using to pour reinforcements into West Africa.

Speaking of West Africa, the garrisoned 9th army was taking heavy casualties, and was requesting reinforcements. Lord Hood shook his head. What reinforcements could he send? He had to pull all the resources he could to aid the 9th army, to keep the covenant from taking whatever it was that was keeping them from glassing the planet. It would also deal a major blow if the covenant forces were defeated. But who could he send? He had numerous ODST units at his disposal, but should they fail, their most skilled veterans would be wiped out.

It was not all poor news however. The 99th marine division along with the 104th tank battalion, had somehow been able to hold off a covenant force that outnumbered them 3-1 by first hand estimations. The two groups took only minor damage thanks to their commanders' brilliant strategies.

The 31st Marine Division had successfully retaken several cities in western Asia, though only with heavy losses.

The 9th fleet had stopped a covenant attack that aimed to punch through to Eastern Europe. The fleet took heavy losses, but was able to completely repel the attackers.

Lord Hood made his decision on the 9th Army situation. The 102nd, 101st, 76th, and 555th ODST regiments would be deployed to reinforce the 9th army. Almost 10k ODST altogether, if all went well, this would be the single biggest ODST drop in UNSC history.

The 77th long sword air wing was being attached to the 9th fleet under Admiral Preventus, they were being tasked with holding off a covenant flanking maneuver from the eastern hemisphere of the moon, aimed at breaking through the 11th and 12th Orbital MAC groups, through to south America.

A major offensive was happening in North Africa near Cairo, the covenant forces were keeping ground forces from advancing into South Africa from the north, and the 7th Army was moving to break through, aided by the 85th and 95th air wings, as well as the 91st and 109th tank battalions. Hood wished all his forces luck. Lord Hood's thoughts wandered again to the Epsilon proposal, and the recommended self-destruction of earth.

 **December 19** **th** **2552: 1000 Hours**

Connor Tyr looked around him, hundreds of ODSTs were gathered in their ship's hangar. This was only a fraction of the thousands that were being gathered, over dozens of ships, for the single largest ODST drop in history. The ODST had taken to calling it "The Big One", something they'd been waiting for forever. He was amazed they had enough SOEIV pods left, let alone ODST. Despite their impressive numbers, they were up against daunting odds. A covenant force of over 200 thousand had amassed in South Africa, inflicting heavy causalities to the Garrisoned 9th army. The army was on the brink of collapse, and these ten thousand ODST were being called in to relieve them. Their only real hope was that they could hold off the covenant long enough for the 7th army to push through and provide reinforcements. Connor looked to the members of his Battalion, and wondered how many of them would survive. General Barnes, and for all intents and purposes, the leader of the ODST, was giving the brief to the thousands of ODST in attendance. Connor snapped out of his daze to listen.

"My fellow ODST, my brothers, my sisters, fellow soldiers of the UNSC, and most importantly, fellow HUMANS, I ask for your attention. We are soon to embark in the greatest ODST drop in the history of all mankind. We always dropped into hell, but this is uncharted ground, even for us. We have never dropped in mass numbers like this. We are the scalpel, used for precision and heavy damage, but in this operation, were are the cudgel, dropping upon our enemies for mass effect. We will be dropping behind the covenant forces, causing heavy damage, the 9th army will advance to take advantage of the covenant force's confusion, and we will then push through the battered covenant lines to link up with the 9th army, before aiding in the defense of South Africa. Our hope, is we will either cause the covenant forces to retreat, or be able to allow enough time for the 7th army to punch through and give us reinforcements. These covenant bastards want to take all we have left. They want to slaughter our families, burn our homes, and eradicate us from existence! We humans have always fought against ourselves, sometimes for greed, for power, for land. These are the reasons for war since the start of time itself, but there has always been one thing that has brought us together: _SURVIVAL_. This trait, this desire to live, has always brought out the best and worst in humanity. We have never been at such a desperate state in all our history. If we lose earth, humanity will follow, our entire species, our future children, and our own lives, WIPED out of existence. I ask for all your strength, not only in the coming operation, but in the weeks of battle to come. We are the ODST, we will defend humanity with our very lives, we will happily jump into hell because NO ONE ELSE WILL! Take heart, Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, if humanity survives, this moment will go down in history. Prepare yourselves, ready your weapons, and don't just drop into hell, BRING IT WITH YOU, AND BRING IT TO OUR ENEMY!"

The general's speech was met with countless voicing cheering and screaming in unison, even some navy crewman cheered in support. "Met with your COs, they'll give you your posts, I will be joining you in the first assault, I wish you all luck, and victory to the human race! Dismissed!" The ODST began filing out of the hangar. Some went to clean their weapons and armor, some to call family and relatives, some to have some final drinks, and some to simply think. Connor decided to do all of these, it was possibly his last day of life, and he was going to enjoy it.

Connor left with the able-bodied men of his platoon, half his platoon was in the med bay, recovering from the ambush they had been sent into. He led his men toward the med bay as he explained their position in this operation.

"Our battalion will be dropped directly in the center, we're gonna be in the thick of it. This platoon will be charged with covering our right flank, and providing assistance to the vanguard. I know we wanted to lead the charge, but we all know-"

"Bullshit commander!" Connor's voice was cut off by their rookie trooper. Lance Corporal Gal Brink, transferred to their platoon after they took causalities in the ambush. "We should be leading the charge, you just didn't go to bat for us!" Since the transfer, Gal had been putting pressure on Connor, testing him. Connor took a step toward Gal and quickly pinned him against the wall. Connor used his arm to gradually put pressure on Gal's throat.

"Listen to me Gal, you step out of line or challenge me one more GOD DAMN time, and they'll be cleaning you off the floor. We do not have the numbers to be the vanguard, we have 50% casualties right now, and I will not send my men to their deaths for PETTY GLORY." Connor growled as he let go and let Gal fall to the floor. Gal gripped his throat and coughed, trying to catch his breath. He tried to speak, but Gal could only utter the words "Fucking monster." Connor scoffed and continued marching with his platoon to the med bay. Connor's 2ic Jones picked up his pace so he could walk alongside Connor.

"Sir, I know Brink stepped out of line, but you can't just snap like that, it makes the men question your judgement."

"I know Jones, I just can't stand rookies and their glory-seeking. It's settled. Now, let's see if Cortez and the others have healed up yet."

"Right, commander."

The ODST entered the med bay, ten of their comrades lay wounded in beds. As soon as Connor entered, the ODST attempted to salute.

Connor chuckled, "At ease you idiots. You all heard the speech Barnes gave, you all know the score. So, I don't want anyone who's not going to be discharged this week. No sneaking out, no forging documents. This is not only for your own good, your inability to do your job may cause the deaths of your fellow soldiers. Now, who is going to be cleared this week?" All ten hands shot up as soon as Connor asked. "Bullshit, there's no way you're ALL healed up."

"Most of us only sustained minor burns sir, the only serious injury was that Cortez had his heart broken. His girlfriend broke up with him, said he couldn't stand him constantly getting hurt." Stated Private First Class Anthony 'Joker' White.

"God damnit White, I will crush your skull like a grapefruit!" Sergeant 'Hulk' Cortez shouted out.

"Can you fuckers calm down? I wanna go back to sleep after the commander leaves. If I'm gonna die tomorrow, I had better be well rested for it." Lance Corporal Benny 'Snooze' Thompson. The entire platoon chuckled and things got quiet.

"Be ready by the end of the week, god may rest on Sunday, but we drop into hell!" Connor shouted.

"OORAH!" Was the platoon's reply.

"Come on boys, let's get some drinks."

 **December 19** **th** **2552 01300 Hours**

Otto Falke glided his longsword into the hangar of the UNSC "Yorktown V2", his longsword wing had been attached to the ship in preparation of a new offensive by the covenant. He disembarked his fighter with his co-pilot and an AI chip. He had been ordered to present himself, his co-pilot Roark, and his fighter's AI Naomi. Otto was beginning to sweat nervously, he wondered what punishment he would be given for his break of protocol without permission. These previous ten days had been hell on him. He had been told a higher ranking superior would judge him. Thanks to the massive conflict, it had taken ten days to allow an opening for the meeting. Otto had been driving himself slowly insane at the possibilities. Would they take away his longsword? But then what would he do? He let his mind imagine the entire UNSC collapsing without his skill. No, they couldn't remove him, he's too skilled, too valuable. Despite his own reassurances, he became more and more nervous as he ascended the ship's elevator to the captain's cabin. He exited the elevator, walking down the narrow hallway to the captain's cabin. The walls seemed to creep in on Otto, threatening to choke the life out of him. By the time he got to the captain's door, his hands and legs were drenched in sweat. The doors sprang open, and Otto's heart shot to his throat. Sitting in the center, was Admiral James Preventus, his single most hated rival. He resigned himself to damnation. He KNEW he would be punished, his beautiful Longsword fighter would be taken from him, the UNSC would lose its best pilot, the UNSC and Humanity was doomed!

"Hello, Otto." Preventus interrupted Otto's doomsday thoughts in a tone so cold it sent a chill down Falke's spine

"H-hello sir." Falke surprised himself at how miserable his voice sounded. "You called for me sir?

"Indeed Otto. We need to discuss your recent… _activities_ regarding your previous mission." The way Preventus said "activities" sent another chill down Falke's spine.

"What seems to be the issue s-sir?" Preventus stood up as Otto finished his question, and walked over to a cabinet. Preventus opened the cabinet and took a bottle of orange liquid, as well as a two stout glasses.

"Take a seat, I'll pour you a scotch."

"Yes sir."

"Please, call me James."

"Ok, James."

"Now, as I'm sure you know, I spoke to command about your recent activities, especially in your recent mission."

'This is it, I'm doomed.' Otto thought to himself.

"Command is…very happy."

"W-..What, sir?" Otto's eyes lit up, he was visibly shocked.

"Oh, don't play coy. You were able to take out a squadron and a half of seraph fighters on your own, effectively saving your entire wing. Command is recommending you for a promotion to Major, you'll be able to lead a flight group if it goes through. Let us drink to your success."

Otto felt a massive weight lift from him, he grew lightheaded, and was very happy he was sitting. He quickly gulped down the shot of scotch before grinning to himself. "Of COURSE they're going to promote me, I am the best, and I did save the wing. They would be STUPID not to promote me." Otto thought.

"Of course…if command learned about your recent…AI activities, not only would you not be promoted, you would likely be discharged." The venomous words brought yet another chill to Otto's spine.

"Is…is that a threat?" Otto questioned angrily.

"Yes, Otto, it is. You will listen to me in this battle, help me gain glory, so I can be promoted as well. I will scratch your back if you'll scratch mine."

"So, it's like that. Afraid you can't get promoted on your own?"

"I just like to have…insurance. Do you agree to my conditions?"

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Not if you want to stay in the UNSC, no."

"Very well, I'll do my best to support you directly in the next battle, and…give you the credit." Otto forced himself to spit out the final words of his sentence. Allowing others to claim the glory he won disgusted him, but losing his position altogether disgusted him far more.

"Good Otto, you're dismissed, prepare your wing, it's gonna be a long week."

"Yes…sir." Otto spat the last word as he turned and left. Otto returned back the way he came, returning to the hangar where his and his wing's aircraft were docked. Around 20 fighters, down from thirty thanks to the previous battle, all under his command. Otto approached his comrades, who were gathered near the center of the hangar. As Otto grew closer, several of the pilots groaned or outright started to leave, but their escape was cut off by Otto calling for everyone's attention.

"Listen boys, we're going to be defending from the Covenant flanking maneuver all week, I need every single one of you at your peak. We need to help drive back these Covenant bastards, earn some kills, and come home safe. I don't want any heroes, we all know I'm the star of this show." At this comment, several of the wing flipped him off, while the rest simply groaned. "Regardless, prepare yourselves, and let's do some damage." The wing nodded in agreement and resumed their preparations. Otto knew he had to do something about James, if he didn't, he'd be the fool's personal stooge. He knew an opportunity would present itself, and when it did, he'd seize it.

 **December 19** **th** **2552 1100 Hours**

Spartan 099 'Bonnie'

Current mission: Rally with 7th army for operation 'African Relief'.

Bonnie toured the rally camp for the 7th army. A force of around 80,000 had been amassed to help break through the covenant ground blockade of Northern Africa, in order to bring aid to the 9th army in South Africa. She had been summoned to a military brief regarding the operation. Being one of the few Spartans left, she knew she would be given a very difficult and important mission, but she never knew what it was until the last possible minute. She entered the large tent she had been directed to. Within the tent were several high ranking UNSC personnel, Colonels and Generals aplenty. She was quickly gestured to join them.

"Spartan Petty Officer 099 'Bonnie', reporting for duty sirs."

"Thank you for joining us Petty Officer Bonnie. If you will examine the data pad in front of you, you will see some of the intelligence essential for your newest operation." A grizzled general gestured to the black tablet on the table in front of bonnie.

"Yes sir, give me a moment to read it." Bonnie quickly grabbed the pad and skimmed its contents. Terrain assessments, units that had a chance of being spotted to avoid friendly fire or interruption. At the top was her newest mission, to assassinate the leader of the covenant defending force on the ground. A veteran of numerous decisive UNSC defeats, "Calinne Yamtor".

"Sir, I doubt I can personally infiltrate the command camp of an army over a hundred thousand strong."

"We don't expect you to Petty Officer, if you continue to read, you will see our plan in full. The 85th and 95th air wings will commence a precise airstrike on the camp, they will experience heavy AA fire, and will likely suffer heavy casualties. Despite this, it will provide cover for you and an elite ODST detachment to drop amid the confusion. You will make your way through the camp as its forces are in disarray. You will eliminate this commander, and leave the area in covenant vehicles to the rendezvous point for extraction."

"Understood, general. How many ODST am I being given?"

"Ten, all their dossiers are on that tablet, read them and study your teammates, you will meet them at 0800 tomorrow morning, and you will drop at 0700 the next day, at the break of dawn."

"Understood, general, permission to be dismissed?"

"Granted, return the tablet when you finish reading.

"Yes, general." Bonnie exited the tent, and began studying the operation. She still doubted the possibility of this mission, but it would not be the first suicide mission she was sent on.

 **December 19** **th** **2552 1500 Hours**

Zheng he looked as another frigate joined their formation, his ship, the 'Empress', had been attached to the 9th fleet to help defend against the covenant's flanking maneuver around the moon. Zheng wondered how many ships would be destroyed, how many lives would be lost in this battle. The UNSC WAS doomed, and the majority knew it. He wondered what the human race would do. Would they crumple and fade from existence? Would they escape and live on in hiding? Or would they somehow repel the covenant invaders? He knew only the first two options were plausible, the final was only a pipe dream rookies and fools could believe. Humanity had given EVERYTHING to the covenant, every ship, every planet, and every human life, to stop them. And for all this loss, only time had been gained. Time…that had now run out.

"Communications, anything to report?" Zheng called out as he ended his pondering.

"No, sir. The fleet continues to organize itself, the covenant force continues to rally. I honestly wish something would happen, this calm is making me nervous." The comms officer responded.

"Don't worry, Comms Officer Finley, we will have action aplenty soon enough. Notify me if anything changes."

"Yes, sir!"

"Weapons, status?"

"All weapons systems are online captain, ready to ruin someone's day."

"Good, engine room, status?"

"All fine and dandy down here sir."

"Understood." Alarms began to blare aboard the ship.

"Captain! Multiple ships detected, moving toward us, the covenant are making their move!"

"Comms, get our orders from command, I want all weapon systems online, helm, standby to reposition!"

'Yet another pointless battle in the great UNSC navy', Zheng thought to himself, 'Time for all hell to break loose!'

The stage was set, massive operations began, humanity's few last tricks were being used up to buy time. The human race was on the brink of collapse, but it continued to fight on, for another day, another dawn.


End file.
